


Loveable Idiots: Snippet Collection

by AmanitaVirosa



Category: Forgotten Realms, The Legend of Drizzt Series - R. A. Salvatore
Genre: "Just a one and done- right?", "peter pan", 20Questions for Jarlaxle, Artemis dresses up for his Jarlaxle, Artemis has kink, Artemis is a handsome man, Artemis is a softy inside, Artemis is home!, Artemis laments, Artemis struggles, Baker Artemis!, Charged, DICKTREE, Desert, Eye of the Storm shenanigans, Feast, First Kiss, Giant feather!, HAPPY THANKSGIVING!, Hey at least he's trying, Honest, Honest Confession, Hypothermia, I wonder what it means..., I'm not sure he appreciates your 'gift' Jarlaxle, It was not what he expected, Jarlaxle does not like the attention he gets, Jarlaxle has been thwarted, Jarlaxle is mushy inside too, Jarlaxle lieeeeeed, Jarlaxle meets his namesake, Jarlaxle's usual shenanigans, Jealousy, Kitten!, Long Hair, Loveable idiots, M/M, Mama!Dwahvel, Sorry :P, Stormy Weather, Stormy-eyed assassin, The bubbles provide a surprising amount of cover..., Tick - Freeform, Too Many Flowers, Trashy Novels, Whether or not he acts on it..., Wild peacocks, a lightning kink, a wild Drizzt appears!, always getting your way, are you SURE Artemis?, bobsaysshipem, braiding, bubble baths!, coffee is a necessity, damned drow, decorative, desert foods aren't the only thing full of heat..., diversion, don't steal an assassin's chocolate, flaws, full body dive, hamsters!, hawt damn was that hard, jarlemis, jartemis, kitten shenanigans, metal doesn't stretch, no glass this time, not what he meant Jarlaxle, not what you're thinking Mav, or rather chinchillas?, plz give him compliments Jarlaxle, romance novels, run Jarlaxle R U N!, stop the Floof!, struggled to find something that didn't involve gross tick bugs, thank you, they do help, tidal - Freeform, tumblr dumpsterfire, uh- went a tad darker than i was anticipating, who is not his husband, yet - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-02
Updated: 2019-04-24
Packaged: 2019-08-14 14:09:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 30
Words: 6,465
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16494092
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AmanitaVirosa/pseuds/AmanitaVirosa
Summary: Send me a one-word or simple prompt on tumblr(or alternatively leave it in the comments) and I'll fill it with a short snippet!  Tumblr tag is LadyZwei.Rating is set to Mature due to the lack of knowing exactly what all will end up in this collection.  STATUS: ACTIVE!!cross posted to Pillowfort at "Sass"





	1. "Wrong dagger."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special thanks to @maverocknroll for getting things started!
> 
> :3 Enjoy!

A sigh of exasperation as Artemis remained bent over his pack. The heat present behind him, pressing against his rear was not _un_ welcome per se, but it certainly wasn’t what he’d asked for. “Jarlaxle,” a pause, hoping for the peacock to take the hint and back off, “Jarlaxle. Wrong dagger.”

“You didn’t want this one instead? Even for a little bit?” Sickly sweet in tone, a grinding press of the drow’s hips pressing him against the table’s edge. 

A brief, short huff of air, amused as always by Jarlaxle’s single track mind when it came to… _this_. “I can’t very well finish packing if you don’t actually hand me the throwing dagger I asked you to.”

Slender, sly hands plucked at his belt, freeing the buckle dagger from its use and a soft purr with teeth at his ear. “No? How curious.”

His blood was quickly draining south, his body responding far faster than he wished it would to Jarlaxle’s prodding. A slight husk to his voice, betraying him, not that his body hadn’t already, “That’s also the wrong dagger.” He swallowed perhaps a bit thicker than he wanted.

The drow hummed, dropping his buckle dagger onto the table’s edge, out of the way. Ground a little firmer against his rear. Slid those stupidly quick, slender, sly hands down to _squeeze_. A nip at his ear, a purr, “This one?”

He ground his teeth together to halt any sounds crawling up his throat, but his body responded only all too eagerly(and obviously) to the touch. Truthfully, he’d had an idea of what he was getting into when they’d started doing _things_ , but this was getting ridiculous. They were supposed to have left a day ago. He summoned all the exasperation he could into his voice, wanting to finally get his packing done. Instead it was as if the floor had fallen out from under his voice entirely, “Lech.”

Jarlaxle just smirked, victorious.


	2. "Dragon."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special thanks to @maverocknroll for this prompt as well! 
> 
>  I do hope it pleases. XD o.~

“What?”

“I bought it.” Truly, Jarlaxle had never seen Artemis so…surprised? Horrified? The scowl had been entirely wiped out by the pure, gaping shock of his assassin apparently failing to comprehend the object being presented.

“Why?” 

“Obviously, so you can keep yourself warm while I’m meeting with matron mothers and my lieutenant.” The higher-pitched, near breathless quality of the man’s voice was absurdly amusing. 

“Keep myself… _warm_.”

There was something innately rewarding watching the heavy flush spread across the normally dour man’s cheeks. He smirked, arching an eyebrow higher, “Yes.”

“Why does it…look like that?” A near squeak in pitch, an obvious conflict on Artemis’ face of whether he really wanted to know the answer.

He grinned, “Why, because of what it’s modelled after!” He paused for extra affect, watching as his assassin’s face warred between flushing hotter or paling in horror. “It’s called the Dragon.”

“Dragon.” Now there was a third expression warring for real estate on Artemis’ face, disbelief. “You want me to-” The man had to regroup for a moment before attempting again, “You want me to shove this ‘Dragon’ up my arse while you’re away?” 

There probably wasn’t an adequate descriptor in existence to measure the sheer level of horrified disbelief in Artemis’ voice. 

“Of course!”


	3. Fluffy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special thanks to @not-your-average-pet-kitten for this chapter!
> 
> Please enjoy!

That Artemis was crouched over in the far corner of their apartment should have been Jarlaxle’s first clue something was up. The second should have been the discovery of Artemis’ weapons belt hung up high on the coat hooks, Claw still attached. 

The third and final was the soft hushing sounds his assassin was making to himself, always after a very quiet, weak squeaking sound. “Abbil? What are you doing?”

Artemis stilled for just a moment, before continuing to work on…whatever it was he was doing over there. Not answering his question, evidently.

“Abbil?” He took a step forward, then two, approaching the man to see just what he was up to. 

“I’m just about done. A moment more.” There was an odd, somehow soothing rumbling quality to Artemis’ voice. Quiet, like he was trying to not make too much noise. 

He stopped, rocking onto his heels and folding his hands behind his back as he watched. Tilted his head curiously as he watched, at the seemingly slow, measured movements of the assassin’s arms from behind. 

Finally, Artemis let out a sigh, rising up slowly with his hands before him. “All better.” A murmur at whatever he was holding, peaking Jarlaxle’s interest further as the man turned to face him.

A kitten. A tiny, fluffy black kitten, it’s eyes still newborn-blue, its paws wrapped in modified, tiny bandages was curled in the strong, carefully gentle hands of his assassin. Behind the now standing man he could spot the bowl of warm water, towels, a saucer of milk, a box lined with soft cloth-

All the paraphernalia to keep and raise a kitten, he realized. An amused smile tugged at the corner of his lips, and yet he couldn’t bring himself to make a snarky remark. Not with the gentle look Artemis had directed at the little animal, barely there but still visible, if only just. “Did you find a friend, abbil?” He kept his words soft, his own expression softening in response to Artemis’ apparent tenderness with the creature. 

Averted eyes, hands bringing the kitten close to his chest to give the poor thing some warmth. “Some wretches were abusing it. I simply made sure to correct the situation.” Quietly gruff, borderline defensive. Protective. 

He smiled softly himself then, always taken aback at how Artemis still occasionally behaved as though he had to _ask_ for permission to keep anything. Instead, he simply offered, “What will you name it?” 

The soft, slightly wonderous and tender expression that shifted over Artemis’ face as he stared down at the tiny life cradled in his hands was something that made Jarlaxle’s own core weak. 

The kitten would be staying.


	4. Domestic

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special thanks to @not-your-average-pet-kitten for this chapter!
> 
> I hope it's sweet enough for you! :D

The sight of Artemis surrounded by various bowls and dishes of different coloured contents, elbow deep in flour, sleeves rolled up to the elbows, armor nowhere to be seen was not one Jarlaxle was expecting when he got back to their apartment. The tiny, yet unnamed kitten (as he thought 'Floof' was an appropriate name for the fluffy thing but Artemis did _not_ ) perched happily on the man’s shoulders, playing some sort of game with the long, dark strands of Artemis’ hair bound together at the base of his skull.

There was flour _everywhere_.

“Piter's away for the next tenday.” Steady, consistent motion unbroken even as his assassin addressed him. Push and pull, gather and repeat, kneading the ball of dough in his hands. 

“Okay?” He was staring, door closed behind him but his hand still on the doorknob. What did Piter going away have to do with- 

“I’d rather not be subjected to you moaning about your lack of confectionary sweets for the next tenday.”

Oh. _Oh_. He felt nearly struck dumb. Artemis was baking for him. 

_Artemis was baking for him._

“There’s no glass this time, I promise.” 

He tilted his head in confusion, too off centre by the scenario to comprehend the joke in there. 

“Glass?”


	5. Bubble baths

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special thanks to @not-your-average-pet-kitten for this chapter!

Jarlaxle loved luxurious things. Loved silk clothes, thick and plush rugs, ornate jewellery, expensive perfumes. 

Luxurious soaps.

Bubble baths.

“You’re ruining my fun.” Hands on his hips, that self-same drow stood in the doorway of their attached bathroom.

He sunk further into the bubbles, blowing a pocket to breathe and speak in the massive iridescent cloud. “You’ve only got yourself to blame.”

Jarlaxle huffed, a chastising look thrown his way. At him having the gall to deprive the peacock of his peeping-tom opportunity. “How am I meant to admire you if you cover yourself in a mountain of bubbles?”

His eyes crinkled at the corners, ever so slightly in his amusement. 

“You don’t.”


	6. Hair braiding

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special thanks to @not-your-average-pet-kitten for this chapter!

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you with your hair just loose.” 

He raised an eyebrow, a strip of leather pressed between his lips as he wrangled with the thick mass of black on his head. No matter the oils or care he took with his hair, it forever fought with him when it was this long. He wondered, idly, why he still had yet to cut it. 

“Let’s try something!” The drow was up on his feet, abandoning the cushions he’d been lounging in in order to approach him. Plucked the strip of leather from between his lips with a tug of fingers.

“Like what?” He’d more or less gathered all his hair at the back of his head, if he had his strip he could tie it back and be done with it. Less headache for him, but then, Jarlaxle always seemed to make decisions that caused him headaches. 

True to form, Jarlaxle paused and pondered for several moments, looking at him, looking at his hair. 

Took so long inspecting that he finally let go of his hair, letting it fall free around his shoulders. It had gotten long, draping down to nearly the middle of his back. He had some pride in his appearance so his hair was well cared for, it looked healthy, lush, thick. Short it was straighter than a perfect arrow. Long, like this, there was a hint of a wave to his hair. “Well?”

Delight on Jarlaxle’s face, he suspected at seeing his hair free for once. “Let me braid it.” Eager, excited, fingers curling in anticipation.

His face screwed up momentarily before he sighed. “None of your hairstyle bull that means anything, and you have a deal.”

The drow all but beamed. “Of course!” 

It wasn’t like they’d be meeting any other drow for Artemis to find out, after all.


	7. Cheap trashy romance novels

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special thanks to @not-your-average-pet-kitten for this chapter!

“One. We don’t have any more vases to put them in. Two. We don’t have any more shelf space to display them on. Three. For the love of all that’s holy, _stop buying me flowers_!” Exasperation, resignation, reluctant acceptance that this was his life. 

“It said yellow roses were best-”

The idiot, _his_ idiot drow was pointing at yet another cheap, trashy, cliché-ridden romance novel that he cursed himself for ever suggesting for Jarlaxle to read, even if it was meant as a joke. “That is not a guide! It was never meant to be a guide! It’s fiction! Made up! Not real!”

“You liked the chocolates well enough!” And now his idiot was defensive. Great.

“I happen to like chocolate. Particularly dark chocolate.”

“See! It was right then!”

He threw up his hands, one still holding the one-too-many bouquet of yellow roses(it’s supposed mean happiness!), his eyes skyward in a silent plea for mercy. “No, it wasn’t! You just happened to luck out on something I liked. Pay attention and get me things I like!” 

This was all his doing and he knew it. If he hadn’t insisted Jarlaxle make a proper attempt to be with him the drow wouldn’t have sought out sources of advice. If the drow hadn’t found bad sources of advice he wouldn’t have had to correct the peacock's information and wouldn’t have joked for him to read the shitty romance crap he was reading now. 

There was a pause of several moments as Jarlaxle seemed to mull over his new information. Blissfully quiet moments. 

“So what about the pushing sweets into your mouth when we kiss?”

He groaned, it’d been too good to be true. “I will bite your tongue off if you try that.”


	8. Jealousy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special thanks to not-your-average-pet-kitten for this prompt!

The kitten had softened him too much. Between Artemis relaxing his guard around him and now the man’s expression softening even more anytime he interacted with the kitten, it was difficult to not notice how many looks the man was drawing. 

Men and women both, he would catch their eyes lingering on _his_ Artemis. He found it necessary to always press into his assassin’s space, to give the cue for all of them to leave his man alone. 

It also made things strained between them, or at least it felt like it did for him. Artemis was either oblivious or just didn’t care about how many appreciative looks he drew. Which made things difficult if they ever had any spats, because then the man wouldn’t let him press close into his space, and he would watch the ever growing circle of _vultures_ close in a little closer. 

_I’m not the possessive type._

He told himself this over and over, every time he watched the heathens close in a little closer on _his_ Artemis.


	9. Thunderstorms

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special thanks to not-your-average-pet-kitten for this prompt!

A weapons belt left discarded on the table of their small apartment. A small, scattered variety of protective rings.

A cloak hung on the peg by the door.

A pair of boots under the cloak.

The thunder booming outside as rain pounded against the closed, glass panes of the window, the wind howling and driving the rain nearly sideways.

A fire, burning low in the hearth and keeping the room toasty warm, far warmer than the drow inside typically enjoyed.

They’d had another argument. One of many in their partnership, their friendship, their relationship.

If a relationship was still something they had after this.

He was sweltering, stripped down to his sleep pants and nothing more but for once- for once not intended for any sexual reasons. He kept his peripheral vision on the window, hoping to see the shadow of a man making his way back in through that closed, but not locked window. 

He was hoping the warmth of their apartment might entice the assassin back into the safer confines of their shared space, and out of the storm that raged outside. If not the warmth, he held onto the hope that the little kitten mewing at his feet, looking for it’s human parent would be enough incentive for Artemis to return safely.

Artemis, who sat dangerously perched on the roof of the building as the storm howled and raged around him, undoubtedly matching a similar storm within the man.

If Jarlaxle knew him well enough, that was.

He laughed helplessly when he realized he’d re-read the same paragraph over and over, repeatedly, for the last hour. 

He put the book down when he panicked, not for the first time in that same hour, when the lightning hit particularly close, picking up the little black kitten at his feet and holding it close to his chest in some measure of a wish.


	10. Wild animals

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special thanks to not-your-average-pet-kitten for this prompt!

The beautiful feathers in their majestic display of aggression had lured his idiot drow far, far too close.

“What part of stay away from the peacocks did you not understand?!”

He brought his arm up to block another buffeting blow of the wild animal’s wings aimed at his head, struggling to drag the flamboyant fool to his feet so they could run.

Not that they could out run it, exactly, but maybe they could _discourage_ it.

Jarlaxle had one arm up, a pathetic excuse of a shield for his face and head, the other low to cover his bared midriff and covered in deep gashes from the bird’s talons.

“Why is it so _angry_?” a plaintive wail from Jarlaxle as he staggered to his feet, “It’s so beautiful! Why does it have _your personality_?”

“Does it matter?! Come on, before it figures out how to disembowel us!” He pulled his idiot closer to him and waved Claw menacingly in the peacock’s direction. He’d prefer not to kill the animal, given it was Jarlaxle’s fault they were even in this situation. 

Unfortunately for the peacock, he was less forgiving when the scared _mew_ of the kitten nestled in the hood of his cloak signified the bird was getting too aggressive. Name or not, he’d be damned if something he’d taken under his protection was about to get hurt. 

And yes, that did sometimes include his idiot drow too.


	11. Consort

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special thanks to @not-your-average-pet-kitten!

_Of all the unlucky-_

Do'Urden stood at the edge of their table, a confused expression stamped on those oh-so-guillible features. Staring at Artemis.

Staring at Artemis’ _hair_.

The sideways glance his assassin was sliding his way indicated the man had already caught on that the braids in his hair were not meaningless. 

_Oops. Oh well._

At least the man appeared to not give a rat's ass about the supposedly dead drow before them. 

Although the degree of Artemis’ lack of reaction to seeing Drizzt Do'Urden alive made him think he was the only one believing it had ever remained a secret. 

“What does it mean?” 

He snapped his attention back to Artemis, to the question posed with more than a fair amount of accusation levelled in it. “What does what mean?” Play it innocent, as much as possible. 

Best to play it dumb if he could. 

Or, well, the man could do that as well he supposed, watching as Artemis simply redirected his question to Drizzt. 

Truly unsporting of him. 

Drizzt, the dear boy, was apparently too off-kilter at seeing the hidden message in Artemis’ braids to formulate a coherent, proper response. Gaping more than just a little and a touch of almost-wonder, “You and him- ?” 

It was hard to miss the moment it clicked in Artemis’ eyes. 

Mostly because those steel-grey eyes were now turned to him with murderous intent, body language entirely, suddenly hostile as the chair legs scraped backwards against the floor.

_“You said- !”_


	12. Decorative

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special thanks to @everandel!

A carefully precise sweep of the kohl-lined stick beneath his eyes, timed to match the resigned sigh falling from his lips.

The things he did for Jarlaxle. 

_He had better appreciate this._

It had been years, nay, decades since he’d last lined his eyes with kohl. And for what? To dress up for Jarlaxle because the fool drow insisted on a 'decorated Artemis' for his ‘birthday’?

His lips tugged downwards into a slight grimace when the pull of the drying henna on his skin reminded him that the kohl eyeliner wasn’t the only thing he was doing for his idiot. 

_He had really better appreciate this._

The henna tattoos would fade eventually, but certainly nowhere near as quickly as he could wash off the kohl eyeliner. 

_For once, please let the idiot not screw us over._


	13. Diversion

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special thanks to @everandel!

If someone had told him he’d be mounting diversion tactics against a kitten named _Floof_ , at any point in his life, he’d have steered as far away from them as possible. 

And yet here they were. 

Jarlaxle was in the open door frame, returning from shopping while he, the legendary assassin, flung himself across the room in an attempt to catch the escape-bound kitten making it’s mad dash for chaos. 

The damned kitten was likely just going to yowl to be let back in within a minute's time, but his concern was more focused on the utter pandemonium the rascal had a penchant for causing. 

Last time she almost ended up in the innkeeper’s cooking pot.

_”Floof! No!”_


	14. Flaws

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special thanks to @everandel!

He clung to whichever praise Jarlaxle threw his way. 

It wasn’t something he showed, how much he appreciated it, but that didn’t change how much he’d grown to rely on it. 

Which was weak. 

Funny, in it’s odd way he supposed.

_Worthless. Useless. Good-for-nothing._

_Filthy._

No matter how much time passed he couldn’t ever silence those words.

Truths? 

Maybe.

His flaws, that he believed them, all the same.

At least until the next crumb of praise was thrown his way.


	15. Charged

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special thanks to @everandel!

The air was charged with tension. 

That was his first clue his assassin was in a foul mood.

The second was the baleful glare levelled at him from storm-grey eyes.

“Yes, abbil?” A tentative inquiry if he’d ever made one. 

“You ate my chocolate.” 

_His chocolate?_

“It was on the table!” Lolth help him, the man would swear up and down he didn’t have a sweet tooth but deprive him of his sweets and-

A growl as the man’s hand dropped to his dagger, “It was _mine_!”

And you got one Artemis Entreri in a murderous mood.


	16. Tidal

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special thanks to @everandel!

An expanse of gold as far as the eye could see, with dunes mimicking tidal waves from the desert's counterpart.

This was home. Had always been home.

The soft, ever shifting cushion of sand beneath his body, heating him, was bliss.

So too was the burning heat of the sun so high above, casting its golden hue upon his sun-darkened skin.

The soft breeze of wind floating across, playing with the odd loose strands of his hair, causing grains of sand to dance across his bare torso and arms-

A sigh of bliss escaped him. 

Home.

_Finally_ home.

Right up until the shadow cast by the bald peacock blocked some of that precious warmth from the sun.

“Are we going in to the city or should I set up camp?” Amused, playful, an elegant white eyebrow arched as Jarlaxle gestured to the city not a half hour away from where he lay in the sand. 

Annoying bastard.


	17. Tick

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special thanks to @everandel!

_Tick. Tick. Tick._

The banister over his head was ticking.

From where he lay, pressed as flat to the floor as he could manage, he could still hear each soft _tick_ as the metal cooled.

Yet another of Jarlaxle’s brilliant ideas gone wretchedly wrong.

He held his breath, listening, listening for the cue that maybe, just maybe the red wyrm wasn’t facing this way anymore. Yet the roar of the flames from where they’d burned above him still rang in his ears, rendering it an exercise in futility.

He had no idea where Jarlaxle even _was_ , except that without a doubt the drow had handily escaped the dragon’s fire breath. 

_Why dragons, Jarlaxle? Why?_

The treasure was never worth it, in his reasonable opinion.


	18. Feast

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special thanks to @not-your-average-pet-kitten!

_Well. Isn’t this distinctly awkward._

He was home back in Calimport, and at the Copper Ante with Dwahvel at her _insistence_

He half suspected she’d only invited them to this private dinner to suss out Jarlaxle. 

Awkward for him, because he was beginning to regret all the times he’d complained about the drow to her, having not expected this sort of consequence.

He could tell Jarlaxle was feeling immensely uncomfortable as the…interrogation continued.

Just small, _friendly_ questions.

Tiny questions.

Constantly quizzing.

“Dwahvel-”

“Shush, Artemis.” 

She didn’t even turn to look at him, keeping her eyes on Jarlaxle. 

Her tone, alone, was one she rarely ever used with him and made him grimace. He hated when her maternal instincts got turned onto him.

Might as well enjoy the spread of food she’d had prepared. That they were all his various preferred dishes (and a few favourites, he’d privately admit) didn’t escape his notice. 

With a quietly suppressed clearing of his throat so as to not draw any of 'mother Dwahvel’s’ ire, he focused himself on the meal. 

At least then she couldn’t give him hell about how much(or little) he was eating.


	19. First kiss

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special thanks to @not-your-average-pet-kitten!

_“I know how to kiss!”_

_“Do you?”_

That was how this had started. 

A challenge, thrown by the drow he couldn’t say 'no' to.

An attack on his pride.

_”Are you sure that’s not why you can’t keep a lover?”_

So what if he’d bitten the bait?

So what if he had been-

_Hesitant._

_Cautious._

_Shy._

So what if he felt-

_Confused._

_Dizzy._

_Hot._

How did the peacock turn such an awkward task into something so-

_Sensual?_

How did a quick show of proof turn into such a-

_Long,_

_Slow,_

_Intoxicating event?_

_._

_And when had his back hit the table?_


	20. Reveal pt. 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For ChaoticCello!

First his hat had gone missing. 

How Artemis had managed that, _and he knew it was Artemis_ , was beyond him.

Then, it had showed up again.

Only…

_Is that?_

A massive, multicoloured tail feather from the peacock that had attacked him was now pinned beside the diatryma feather. 

That it utterly dwarfed his former feather was…amusing to say the least. Nevermind that it was longer than either of them was tall. 

What he really wanted to know, however, was both _why_ and _how_ Artemis had managed to keep and hide such a massive feather.

Also where was Artemis himself?


	21. Reveal pt.2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For ChaoticCello!

No one could say that the man didn’t know how to throw a surprise. 

Of course, that should have been a given considering his _knack_ for stealth and subterfuge.

Still, coming back to their apartment to find various, expensive wines, was a Very pleasant experience. The bottles each were paired with small plate of the sweet or savoury edibles they best complimented, creating a smorgasbord of deliciousness. 

However.

The crown piece, he mused, had to be dark-skinned, exotic desert man before him. With sand coloured, low slung cotton pants hugging his hips, the henna tattoo creating distracting patterns of light on his skin, the irresistibly, seductive allure of Artemis’ kohl lined eyes. 

It took him a second attempt to speak, his mouth gone entirely dry. 

“Such a pleasant surprise, abbil.” He took a step forward, then another, drawing close to this…stunning beauty before him.

He noted with surprise Artemis’ hair had a slim, sleek braid from the first section of his hair by his face. The rest of his hair tied loosely back into a low tail with a plain, dark leather cord. 

There was a heat, simmering under the surface of his skin. 

Simmering, too, behind the steel-silver of Artemis’ eyes, as he closed the space between them. 

.

It turned out, the plates of food were perfectly portioned for two to refuel with.


	22. Chapter 22

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For Luninarie!

The silhouette of Jarlaxle’s figure over his bed had never been intended to be quite so... _lewd_ he supposed.

And yet still, inappropriate and obscene thoughts continued to assault his barely awake mind each morning, as his hand curled around the hilt of his dagger protruding from the crotch of that same silhouette. 

That the action of grabbing such a protrusion resulted in a _different_ protrusion of his own, was an entirely different Problem. 

Or so he told himself. 

Maybe he really ought to rethink this whole 'painting Jarlaxle over my bed so I can stab him' business.

And _no_ , brain, not _that_ kind of stabbing.


	23. Sabotage

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was written during the initial dumpster fire that is Tumblr, announcing it's ban on all adult content and the ensuing disaster of rocks and dragons being flagged.

The chair leaned back with him until it no longer could, and the _pop pop_ of his spine sounded from the pressure placed against his vertebrae.  His coffee mug was largely empty, only a swallow or two left of the still decently warm beverage as he shut down his computer with a relieved sigh.

Another night’s work done.

The veritable shit storm that was occurring on the social media platform Jarlaxle had him managing was certainly a sight to behold.  If the peacock wanted to ignore his advice and instead listen to the lavender-eyed pansy on how to conduct his platform-

Well, it was hardly his fault if it crashed and burned then, wasn’t it?

He twisted in his chair a few more times, relieving the stiffness in his back before he locked the office for the night, his gait relaxed and leisurely as he made his way home, toed off his boots, and flopped onto his bed. 

It would be dawn soon. Best to shut his cellphone off to silence the inevitable panicked calls the morning would bring.

Several hours later, he woke to find his previously empty voicemail completely filled, all with a frantic, panicked Jarlaxle, _“I watched you fix the bug that was tagging the dragon sisters for deletion! I watched you! How is it back this morning?! What did you do Artemis?!”_

Ah. But revenge was sweet no matter how cold it was.

It was going to be a good day today.


	24. Dicktree

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For Maverik for completing their first taste of Buckley's Original to best their cold! Prompt 1 of 2 as promised!

“No.” He dug his heels in, dragging them both to a stop.

Jarlaxle tugged on the arm he held captive, trying to pull him forward. “You promised me one day where I could tell you to do anything and you would.”

“Why in the hells would I do that?” He still had his heels dug in, refusing to budge.  The swaying shadows of the tree’s branches filtered the warm sunlight, making a peaceful sort of air around them.

“Because you murdered my prime candidate to continue Piter's lineage!” Indignant, ruffled, insistent.  The peacock wasn’t going to let him off apparently.

“It’s not like I tried to! She’s the one who tried opening our door to leave sweets in our apartment! Our door that was trapped!” His heels skidded in dirt as Jarlaxle dragged him towards the tree.

“By _your_ traps, I’ll remind you.”

He glared at the drow, trying to enforce the lack of his fault her death was.

“You promised.”

He cringed. So he had.

“In my defense, I wasn’t expecting…this?” He gestured to the tree. Or _tree_ , rather. It’s branches laden with phalluses.

That apparently grew on this tree’s branches.

He was going to regret asking this, but- “Are they…real?”

Jarlaxle’s expression flipped as if on a copper piece. “Exceptionally so! I would only bring you to pick a dildo from the best source!”


	25. "I love you"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For Maverick! Prompt 2 of 2 as promised!

The day was proceeding as they ever did since they’d joined up with Do’Urden and his group.

Wake up, put away his bed roll, get accused of trying to hold up the party.

Breakfast already eaten and packed away without him being offered any.  A strip of jerky from his pack to quiet his stomach.  A swig of water from his flask.

Miles upon miles of walking, or climbing, or hiking.  Often a combination of all of them, with a bit of fighting thrown in if he was unlucky.

Fighting being both against enemies and being verbally accused of anything and everything under the moon.  Agitating Do’Urden. Looking at his wife wrong. Their own supplies running low.

Somehow all of it was _inevitably_ , _undoubtedly_ his fault.

And throughout all of it, every instance-

Jarlaxle never even so much as glanced his way to get his side of things.

No one did.

Dinner was much the same as breakfast. His _contribution_ to the group was always to gather wood. There was never any food left when he got back.

His clothes hid how hollow his stomach had grown.

His cloak and hood how gaunt his face.

His gloves the thinness of his wrists.

He counted the pieces of jerky left in his pack. Two more tendays.  If he ate a piece of jerky every three days, he’d make it to the next town without becoming too weak hopefully.

His hand curled around Claw’s hilt, bargaining for a bit of it’s strength to restore his heartbeat from the weak fluttering it currently danced to.

“Talking to your sword again Artemis?” There was something cold and almost mocking in the red eyes of his former friend. The knot in his chest wouldn’t quite loosen when he received these short interactions.

“Jarlaxle-“ His voice was hoarse, quiet, but not so quiet to miss the sharp ears of the mercenary- no, the second heroic drow of the surface.

Along with Do’Urden and his companions.  Which Jarlaxle had been fully welcomed into.

“What? Make it quick, I’m busy, as you should be with setting up camp.” Cool, indifferent, impatient.  The knot tightened.

“I love you.” Had loved. Still loved. Why was he so stupid?

The flat line of Jarlaxle’s lips meant it was the wrong thing to say.

Right. Of course. To love him would be to fall in line with the rest of the predictable creatures.

And ever did Jarlaxle hate predictable, uselessly lovesick idiots.


	26. Grown Grumpyass

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For Everandel.

Coffee brewed.

Curtains opened.

Cup filled and placed at bedside table.

Breakfast ordered.

Such was his routine each morning to deal with the grown grumpy assassin, that obstinately hated mornings.

Shortly followed by waiting for said grumpy ass ~~as attractive as it was~~ to follow his own morning waking routine.

Groaning when the sun reaches his closed eyes.

Tugging the blanket over his head.

Muttering a curse when the blanket does nothing to stop the bright sunlight.

Throwing the pillow either at the offending window or simply to the other side of his bed, depending on the quality of sleep he had.

A guttural snarl. This is the point when ensuring one is not in the same room as the reluctant waker is best.

Eventually dragging himself to open his eyes and sit up.

Noticing the coffee, and immediately quieting his snarling and cursing.

Drinking the coffee.

From experience, he has learned that one should wait until the assassin has at least managed to down half of the substance before re-entering the room.

Additionally, usually by the time the man has finished his first cup, breakfast has arrived to their room.

By the second cup conversation isn’t met with a threat of castration.

If they are feeling particularly luxuriant, a third cup entreats out as good a mood as one may ever experience with his scowling compatriot.

Such is what Jarlaxle tries for this morning. Artemis' good mood and favour is critical for the next few minutes.

“So, _abbil_ , about Do'Urden…”


	27. Ring

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For Maverik

It had seemed like a potentially inadvisable idea at the time, though not disastrous.

Yet disastrous was what it had turned into.

Stoneskin, it turned out, when applied to certain…areas, didn’t wear off. At all.

And, perhaps obviously, a metal ring didn’t _stretch_.

He was caught between ecstasy and horror. 

No, horror wasn’t the word. Agony?

Definitely agony.

He couldn’t release. He couldn’t relax. He wanted _moremoremore_ and _Gods, too much_.

It was _bliss_.

It was _torture_.

He was distantly aware that his voice was making words, making sounds of pleasure-pain.

Praises and pleas.

Cursing and begging.

_Oh, Jarlaxle,_

_What have you done to me?_

Deceptively delicate hands landed on him again, pressing him down, down against the- floor? Bed?

He couldn’t remember where they were.

And then, suddenly, there was relief.

Instant, aching, desperate relief.  His throat made hoarse from his shout as he could finally, _finally_ , release.

The descent down from bliss was a long, winding path of hazy and scattered thoughts, and at the end was Jarlaxle’s single visible eye shining down at him with an inordinate amount of amusement.

As well as the less-than-impressed face of the cleric needed to remove his ring of stoneskin from…where it never should have been in the first place.

Mortification and horror were too light of terms to describe his disposition towards his situation.

He could only hope that the handsome pouch of gold would be enough to buy the cleric's silence on his blunder.

It certainly wouldn’t be enough to shut the mouth of Jarlaxle, going by the delighted glee lighting _his_ expression.


	28. Hypothermia

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For Maverik!
> 
> Note: The opening line and general scene of this snippet is inspired by Maverik's fanfic "Eye of the Storm", end of chapter 3 and start of chapter 4. If you haven't already read their work, I would highly recommend it.

“I hate ice,” 

He clung to the levitating lifeline of a drow, dragging him up from the frozen river's clutches.

“I hate snow. I hate cold. I hate _you_.”

His teeth were chattering, his body shivering to the point it was a miracle he managed to keep his grip on the barely dressed peacock. Anger and fury at the mad followers of gods were the only things preventing his words from slurring.

Add to that, he felt marginally fried from the lightning strike earlier. His insides were all knotted up and his heart was still skipping erratically as he pressed himself bodily against the warm bastard. 

He was determined to siphon as much heat as possible from Jarlaxle. 

His hands knotted in Jarlaxle’s vest, his legs wound tight around the drow’s waist and his face pressed against the ebony skin of the peacock’s throat. His breaths were coming short and hard, small puffs of ice-mist barely visible in the winter air from his chilled body. He fought Jarlaxle when the drow tried to make him put his feet in the snow to walk, refusing to have any sort of contact with anything else cold.

Such was how they travelled for a time, until Jarlaxle overbalanced with his extra weight and sent them both into a snowbank. 

The remaining trudge to shelter was significantly faster now that they were both walking. Or, in his case, stumbling forward as fast as he could manage. His focus on reaching the cave they’d spotted was so single-minded he startled when Jarlaxle pulled him close in the entryway, pressing warmth against his side.

An illusion to hide the entrance from their foes, a fire filling the cramped space with the beginnings of heat, and Jarlaxle was tugging and plucking at his clothes, peeling them from his frame. He leaned half unwilling into the seemingly searing heat of the drow’s fingers, the drow’s hands, exposing more of himself than- were he in a rational state -he should be comfortable with.

He was having trouble breathing.

His body was shivering so hard it felt like every muscle was quivering.

The pausing of Jarlaxle’s hands in peeling his pants down from around his hips drew an airy, weak question from him.

The sight of his own body, fully erect and straining, a bead already gathered at the head-

.

was not what he was expecting.


	29. Hamster

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For Artemis Entreri
> 
>  
> 
> _Asoffra means Chinchilla in the Forgotten Realms_

He was aware of humans having pets. Normal pets anyways. Perhaps a dog. Or a cat. Maybe even a bird. He’d heard of humans having those before. 

But a rat?

“Asoffra. For the twentieth time, Jarlaxle, it’s an asoffra. Not a rat.”

“A furry rodent was what she described, yes?”

“Not all rodents are rats. Or mice. Some are gerbils. Or hamsters. Or _asoffras_.”

He frowned, trying to picture something…rodent like but also desirable to have as a pet.

“For pity’s sake Jarlaxle, you’re the one who got us hired for the job!”

He was indignant, “I thought it would be some fanciful, exotic beast!”

“That you could keep but claim was lost to the client?”

Oooh, he could feel the flat stare from his assassin boring into the back of his head.

“I didn’t say that!”

.

The grousing mutter from Artemis behind him almost slipped his ears, “No, but you always think it.”


	30. Peter Pan

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For wanderingDreamer

There were days he came across yet another grievous error of judgement, his own judgement, in the financial records of Bregan D’aerthe.

Over a human.

A petty, backstabbing human that had apparently cost him hundreds of gold from his band’s coffers. 

The headaches he was subjected to in finding these…lapses of his own judgement were equally horrific in the workload they required to correct, and in the actual physical ailment. 

Which is perhaps why he didn’t hear the window swing silently open, traps somehow disarmed, as the cool breeze from Luskan's shore stirred his office.

What he did notice was the chill of being watched.

And the short, miserably self-depreciating bark of laughter from suddenly behind him.

“I don’t know why I thought you’d want to keep any trace of me in your life.”

His heart stuttered, and his headache became a migraine as a flood of memory washed through his brain. Memories of not just the brilliant, clinical perfection of the assassin, but also of summer days, of cold winters and shared rooms. 

Of banter and glee.

Of- 

“Artemis- “ He spun, his heart lodged in his throat,

.

But all he could find was the eerie depth and sway of shadows.


End file.
